Sanctuary
by FoxChaos
Summary: Kurt's used to taking care of people. He's taken care of his dad, and his little cousins, etc. He can cook and clean and keep a home nice. Kurt's also gay. Really gay. Super gay, even. And he can handle taking care of Santana and Rachel when they can't do it themselves. No problem. The problem is that, when they get together, maybe he isn't quite so totally gay...? Kurtcheltana.
1. Chapter 1

Name: Sanctuary

Author: FoxChaos

Pairings: Pezberry, eventual Kurtcheltana

Rated: Eventual M

Word Count: ~1000

A/N: This entire thing just went off with a mind of its own. I swear it just started as a "Friend is totally the 'mother hen' of the group". AND THEN IT BECAME ROMANTIC and like, this little journey of sexual fluidity. Also, I do not own Glee nor the characters, etc, etc.

* * *

He's not surprised by the role he ends up taking. Rachel has been spoiled for the most part by two doting parents and although Santana is definitely a protector at heart, she's not exactly a home-body.

Neither is he, but he knows how to take care of people, if not always how to protect them.

So he cooks most of the meals, does most of the dishes, reminds the girls that they should probably do laundry soon, and finds himself picking up around the apartment whenever he happens to have some free time between school, work, Adam, and TV. There isn't much, but he finds a way to balances it all anyway.

"Santana! For the love of Streisand the next time I have to put your shoes away I'm throwing them out!" is a common phrase yelled on a regular basis. Along with,

"Rachel, calm down and let's talk about this." Which isn't nearly as common as,

"Okay, that's it. You, kitchen. You, your room. I'm way too tired to listen to you both squabble and bicker like two year-olds. Separate and calm the fuck down."

It doesn't help that he's the oldest, if not by much. Nor that both girls have to revert to various ages that they are not whenever they get emotional, stressed, or angry. Most of the time when they fight and he's ordered them to different parts of the apartment he has to talk to Rachel first, because sometimes Santana makes her cry without meaning to (and he knows it's on accident because Santana panics and usually has to be restrained from killing whenever someone else has made Rachel cry), and then he has to go to Santana to keep her from breaking something, then back to Rachel to get her half, and back to Santana to hear her side, and usually by that time they're both cooled off enough to meet in the living-room and talk it out like actual adults and not kindergartners.

The whole situation hasn't gone completely unnoticed by his roommates, either.

Whenever Kurt tells Santana to pick up her things he's usually sniped back with a "Yeah, whatever, _mom_,_" _even as the Latina does, in fact, pick her things up.

And Rachel has this terrible habit of kissing him on the cheek whenever she goes off to school if she has classes when he doesn't.  
He's seen her do it with her fathers. He _knows _what it means.

It's exhausting, keeping Santana focused and Rachel positive and Santana from bringing home women when her roommates are home and Rachel from dating assholes and the cleaning and the cooking and dear god he just wants to watch his favorite TV shows.

He's too young to be a parent.

His roommates are too old to be acting like children.

But he doesn't say anything about it. Just keeps on trekking, because someone has to make sure Rachel actually eats right and nobody else will remember to turn on the coffee machine at 5pm so that it's ready before Santana has to leave to work a night shift.

It's when he's cleaning up after a particularly fabulous dinner (made by him, obviously) that he feels a tap on his shoulder. It's Santana, looking altogether annoyed. But she can't be too annoyed, because then she wouldn't be there in the first place. He knows her by now.

"Can I help you, Satan?" He raises an eyebrow, not hiding the snark because _no_, he is _not_ their actual parent and he can still be just as sarcastic as he wishes with them.

"Drop the dishes, Lady Hummel. I gots this," comes the short, snappy reply that leaves no room for argument. Except…

"Santana… You _never _do dishes."

She hip-checks him out of the way, taking the washrag from his hands. "Whatever. Just go in the living-room and watch your rom-coms or whatever it is that gets your rainbow heart a'fluttering."

Kurt stares at her for a moment, then slowly walks away, never taking his eyes off her until he absolutely has to, because he's positive this is a trick.

When he gets to the living-room the couch is clear of clothing (that he had folded because wow the girls are terrible at it) and there's just his favorite blanket and boyfriend pillow present. He sits down just as slowly as he had left the kitchen, eyes shifting around in utter suspicion. Rachel walks out of her room, all smiles. He turns his suspicious eyes on her. "Rachel. Where are the clothes I folded?"

The small woman keeps smiling as she heads to the kitchen. "I put them away." And then, "Would you like some tea?" She's gone before he can answer, and fifteen minutes later is back with his favorite mug that happens to be filled with his favorite tea. Santana is following behind her, and he glances at each of them warily when they plop down on either side of him, Santana throwing Bruce to the side.

They get through two episodes of Golden Girls before he can't handle it anymore. Rachel is curled up on his left, Santana on his right, and both are resting their heads on his shoulders.

And okay, so that's normal for Rachel.

But _Santana_?

"Yeah. Okay. What's going on and what are you trying to bribe me for?"

He hears Rachel giggle, and sees Santana turn her head to look at him. "What? We can't appreciate our Mama Hummel sometimes?"

Kurt groans. "I _hate _you both." And does. He _really does_.

(Except that's a lie. But still.)

"Never. Ever. Call me that again."

He can see Santana's smirk from out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to glare at her.

"I'm serious, Lopez."

"Only when we're alone."

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_."

"Rachel?"

Rachel proceeds to throw her legs across his lap, and Santana sets her hand on her knees, raising a challenging brow at the young man as he sees the infamous Berry pout.

With a groan, Kurt lets his head fall back to the couch.

"_Swear to me_, that it will _only_ be in the presence of you and Rachel. _None one else ever._"

Santana smiles far too sweetly. "Lady's honor." And the scary thing is that it actually sounds sincere, and he actually believes her.

Kurt lets out an exhausted sigh, relenting. Rachel and Santana share a look. And he isn't sure what it means, but it probably translates to trouble for him somehow down the line.

By the end of the night Rachel has migrated herself to Santana's lap, who's managed to situate herself between Kurt's legs, who happens to be resting against the corner of the couch with one leg up on the couch and the other outstretched on the floor. They fall asleep like that, and despite a minor mishap where Kurt has to carefully maneuver his way out of the puppy pile in the morning to start breakfast, he supposes it's not to so bad.

And he'd be okay with it happening again.

So long as no one ever finds out.


	2. Chapter 2

He is _incredibly surprised in every single way _at how things… progress as time goes by.

Not the part where Santana and Rachel start having sex.

Because really, that was only a matter of time.

Not much changes, besides that they share Santana's bed (because it's the biggest) and Kurt now has to try and not be home on some nights while still managing most of the house duties. It eventually gets to a point where he throws all of their laundry (unfolded) at them in bed while they're still naked when he gets back after being gone for nearly 24 hours and says "If you want to have more sex nights then help with more chores."

It mostly works.

And then…

Alright, the thing is, he's _really gay_. He is. Incredibly so. And not because of how he looks or how he speaks or what he wears. He's really damn gay because he really, really, _really _likes dick. And the rest of men. Like, as in, everything that makes men… men.

He loves it. A lot. Pretty much always has, even for his short stint in the one closet he'll never step back into.

And he _thought _that Santana was equally gay.

Sure, he knew she at least could tolerate sex with guys. But he also knew that she didn't particularly enjoy it, and certainly not on any emotional level that mattered.

Rachel was… Rachel was Rachel. For all her time chasing after terrible men Kurt wasn't nearly as surprised as he should have been when she eventually came out to him (and eventually Santana, down the line) as "not completely straight". She refused to put a label on it. Period. No matter who asked her, including him and Santana.

In her own words she "liked what [she] liked" and if they didn't like that they could "suck it".

Okay, so the last part were Santana's words, but only because Rachel hadn't been able to think of anything on the spot and Santana had thrown it in there.

So that's how everything works for awhile.

Kurt goes to Adam's a little more often, the girls bang (they eventually start actually dating, and to everyone's surprise it's Santana that makes those particular moves first), and the apartment stays in half-decent condition. Pezberry just ends up ordering out whenever Kurt isn't around. Except on the nights he's feeling particularly giving and cooks for them before he leaves.

He's still the one to keep everything in line, though.

Rachel may make all the lists, and the girl is _definitely _organized to a fault, but again, it's the little things that she doesn't always think about. Things like remembering to eat or sleep instead of running lines.

It isn't until Adam and him split up (because Adam is going back to England and Kurt obviously isn't - can't/won't - follow him that he starts to notice some _real _changes; the kind that catch him completely off-guard and he still doesn't know what to think of it all.

* * *

It starts small.

Really small.

Like, as in, Rachel Berry small. And with Rachel Berry herself.

He calls her, in tears even though he definitely doesn't want to be, and, oops, turns out he's interrupting "sexy times". But he's crying, and has no place to go besides home, and even though he's positive that Santana's going to shave his head in his sleep he goes back to the apartment at Rachel's insistence.

"Oh my goodness, Kurt… I am so, so sorry…" is the first thing he hears when he slides the door open, eyes red and puffy and completely unattractive. She's dressed, thankfully, and is pulling him into a tight, comforting hug the instant he steps inside.

He just barely catches a glimpse of Santana out of the corner of his eyes as his head buries itself into Rachel's neck, and he's pretty sure he sees a death-glare plus scowl there.  
And possibly more skin than he'd like?

He's pulled to the couch, sat down, and Rachel takes up her spot at his left side, pulling him down against her and holding him as he just sobs pathetically about a guy he was only just starting to get to know but who had been saying and doing all the right things anyway. The small woman runs her fingers through his hair, and doesn't say anything useless like "It'll be okay" or "You'll move on" because they both know how much none of that helps at moments like this.

Kurt feels the couch dip, and he's too focused on feeling sick to flinch (sometimes Santana still manages to terrify him, and he's pretty sure that interrupting her sex with her girlfriend is the best way to tick her the fuck off). But he steels himself for the worst anyway, and then-

"C'mere, Lady Face. Hobbit over there looks like a damn teddy bear trying to hug a standard poodle." And _then _he's being _moved_. Back into Santana. Whose arms are just a little more firm and whose chest is definitely more… um… full. He doesn't have the energy to fight it. And some weird part of him doesn't even want to. So he just lets the two girls move him around until he's being held in Santana's arms, curled up between her legs, with Rachel sort of spread out half on him, her arms around his lower waist and head on his side, and half on the couch.

And that's how they sit for a good hour, until Kurt's tears have slowed and his breathing is under his control again.

Rachel speaks first, of course. "We're all sharing a bed tonight," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing ever.

But-

"Sounds good," replies Santana, not letting him speak, nor even sounding the least bit put off.

Um… But.. Wait a moment.

"…Santana's bed…? Because, I mean, I love you two, but…"

Santana's sultry (_why _is he referring to anything of Santana's as sultry?) chuckle vibrates through her chest and moves her boobs in a way that shouldn't be nearly as fascinating for him as it actually is. "Relax, Hummel. They're clean sheets. We hadn't started yet."

Oh. Okay. That must be why Santana isn't plotting any revenge.

In the end he relents. If only because being with Bruce would just be really depressing right now and it's not like he hasn't slept in the same bed with Rachel and Santana before.

Maybe he should be questioning the level of comfort he has with cuddling it up with these two women, and how nice it feels, given that he definitely isn't nearly as comfortable with any other women, but at this point he'll take anything he can get.

Besides.

It's only one night, he's sure. The three of them may be close, but Rachel and Santana are like, a thing. There's no way they'll want him around and interrupting their couple-time/sleep-time for more than a day or two. Three at the very most.

Kurt still isn't sure how he managed to be so utterly and completely wrong about something that seemed as obvious as it did.


	3. Chapter 3

_Wow was he wrong_.

Kurt doesn't start out being wrong.

Neither Santana nor Rachel ever verbally tell him he has to sleep in his own bed a couple of days later, but he's positive they're thinking it, and so he tells them he's fine and returns to his own room three days after he and Adam break it off.

He busies himself more than ever with school, and Vogue, and housework, and watching out for Pezberry because _someone still has to_. He is insistent upon that. Firmly believes it.

Yes, Kurt knows that both young women are capable, and strong, and independent in their own right, but, well, if nobody wants him as a boyfriend, at least he's wanted as a best friend/roommate/cook/maid(Santana doesn't get the coffee maker turned on for her for a week for that one). It's enough. Sorta.

_Has to be for now_, Kurt tells himself. And almost believes it.

But he sees his roommates cuddling, and stealing kisses whether he's watching or not and…

He won't pretend it doesn't hurt somehow.

The problem is that… well… he isn't exactly sure _how_ it hurts.

Kurt knows how it's supposed to hurt. He should feel envious. Should feel jealous of _their relationship_. And yet… Why does a part of him, waaaaay in the back of his head, keep telling him that he's actually jealous of _them_?

That is wrong in so many ways he cannot even begin to explain it.

So Kurt does what he's always done when he's faced something that is too scary and terrifying and confusing for him to handle alone.

He calls his dad.

* * *

"Dad, I have a problem," are the first words Burt Hummel hears when he picks up the phone. Followed by; "I'm not sure if I'm 100% gay anymore."

There's silence on both ends of the line; Kurt because that's all he can say, and Burt because he's trying to process.

"Uh… Heya, kiddo. I'm doing great, thanks." It's a poor attempt at humor, but Kurt latches onto it like a vulture to a desert carcass.

"Sorry, dad. I just… I'm glad. Is your heart doing better? How's the political world? Is Carol doing well? Finn?"

They get all the usual topics out of the way within 20 minutes, and neither feel like that's enough time, but eventually the original point of the conversation comes back anyway.

"So… not… completely gay…?"

Kurt doesn't blame his father for being confused. If anything most kids end up telling their parents they aren't completely straight (see also; Rachel). But leave it to him to be a special snowflake, or something. "Yeah… Um… Yes. Yeah. Not completely."

No one said the Hummels were _always _good at speaking.

Burt, thankfully, has the sense and tact to approach the subject carefully, and with nothing more than curiosity and support. "Alright. Well, how did you, you know… Come about that idea? I mean, have you…?"

Kurt's face goes red. "No! I mean, uh, no. Not yet- I mean. Just no. Not that. It's just that…" He takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. "Maybe I should start from the beginning?"

"That's usually a pretty good place to start, yeah."

So he does. From the top, so to speak.

He tells his dad about how he ended up playing peacekeeper and off-and-on caretaker, how he slowly built up a certain level of mutual trust and comfort with both young women on all new levels, his break up, and the events that happened afterwards. And the… feelings that starting coming with it all.

Burt is quiet for a bit, and his son lets him be, knowing that his dad likes to think things through and speak when he's sure of something. Finally,

"Alright. Well. That makes sense. I mean, Kurt, you've never had a problem with considering yourself an 'honorary' girl, but that doesn't mean you've been comfortable around them. Last I checked you thought you were goin' to die when you first saw a woman naked…"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Dad. I was 16."

"Yeah. And most boys don't mind seeing that kinda thing at 16. All I'm sayin' is don't jump to conclusions, you know? Let yourself get a handle on what you're feeling before you decide what you are or are not. Maybe you just aren't used to having this kind of relationship with women."

"But Dad, it's not like that. I'm actually _jealous of them! _I mean-" He bites his lip. If he finishes that sentence, puts thoughts into words, that makes it more real. And it's terrifying.

He thought admitting he was gay was scary, but when he finally did he felt like he had something solid to hold unto. Like suddenly everything made sense again. But this? This will never make sense.

It can't.

He's spent so much time being so sure of who he is and what he likes that to suddenly have that turned on his head is…

Kurt swallows, letting out a shaky breath, and then continues, voice low and just as shaky as his breath had been. "When Rachel and Santana are cuddled on the couch… I get jealous because I want to be cuddling _with them_. And- and sometimes- Oh god. Okay. No. No. I can't do this."

Burt interjects. "Woah, woah, Kurt, son, calm down there, kiddo. Deep breaths, alright? S'gonna be okay. I promise. Deep breaths."

He does so, breathing in and out slowly, trying to keep his hands from shaking. Even though they refuse to. "Dad I'm… I'm _scared_. What does this even _mean?" _

The young man hears his father exhale, and he can almost feel the firm, supporting hand on his shoulder. It makes him want to cry, but he doesn't. "I don't know, kid. You gotta figure that out on your own. But I promise you, no matter what you are, gay, straight, bi, whatever, I still love you, and you're still my boy. Always will be, alright?"

Choking back the hints of a sob, Kurt nods, even though his dad can't see it. "O-okay. I love you, dad. And I miss you."

"Miss you, too, Kurt. But I'll see you over the summer. Carol and I will visit in a few weeks when we can."

The conversation eventually comes to a natural end, and right on time, because as he hangs up the phone Santana and Rachel are back from their date. He hears the giggling the moment the door slides open, and he tries to get rid of the remnants of stubborn tears. He can hear them whispering, can just imagine Santana sweeping Rachel up into a heated, wanting kiss, and- Fuck, it makes his heart clench in ways that is just _should fucking not_.

Kurt's in his room and grabbing his things before the girls even make it past the couch, and without even a goodbye he's out the door, barely hearing Rachel's worried "Kurt?" or Santana's "What the fuck?" before he's down the hall and out the apartment.

For the first time in _ever _he feels like he can't be around the two when they're having sex _not _because it's gross or awkward, but because it just _hurts._


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt gets home late the next night.

Really late.

And Santana is not pleased.

"Alright, Lady-Gay, what the hell was that all about? Seriously? Berry and I couldn't even get it on last night because you-"

Kurt just isn't in the mood. "Because I left? Newsflash, Satan, I always leave when I know you two are going to have sex. This isn't new."

The two glare at each other, neither giving an inch. That is, until Santana stands up from the couch and literally _stalks _over to him. Kurt doesn't step back, doesn't back down at all, but his eyes actually _look down and he fucking blushes. _And Santana catches it.

"Listen, we were _worried_ and- Woah. Wait. The hell? Are you-" Then she smirks, and Kurt's fists tighten. "Holy fuck. You're actually _blushing_." So of course she steps closer. And because he's stubborn as hell, Kurt refuses to move away, causing her chest to press up against his, and because he's taller he has to look down at her and- "And you're staring at my _boobs! Holy shit!_"

Kurt is completely and utterly mortified, and frustrated, and he's so confused by the mixed signals his body is sending that he just does not have any patience for anything Santana is saying or doing. "Just shut up, Santana. I'm seriously not in the mood. And I was _not _looking at your- your chest."

But because Santana is sure she's right, she just presses in closer, a killer spark in her eyes to match her smirk. "Yeah? You sure…? Cause I mean, I knew I was hot, and I know you _look _like a lady, but-"

"**_Shut up_**!" And he actually almost pushes her away before he stops himself, hands going up to his hair instead as he moves around her, then spins on his heel to face her again, his cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment and chest heaving from a mass of emotions that he can't explain. "I am NOT a woman! Alright!? No matter how many names you make, or how many times you fucking insist on it, I am a goddam MAN and _yes _I have a penis and _yes _I went through fucking puberty and I am _gay_! So just- Just leave me a lone!" He doesn't wait for Santana to say anything. Doesn't care for anything she has to say, really. He just storms to his room, closes the curtains in a rush, and throws himself on his bed.

Honestly, he feels like crying _again_, but he doesn't. He seethes in his anger, convinces himself that Santana is just a terrible bitch and that he'll never, ever give her any sort of satisfaction, no matter how what feelings or lack of he may or may not have for her and her girlfriend.

He spent his whole life, his whole damn life, being mocked, and he'll be damned if he's mocked for anything else like this.

Especially from his roommates.

* * *

When he wakes up the next afternoon he has never been more happy about it being the start of summer break.

Determined to ignore everything he's felt in the last month or so, Kurt gets up, opens his curtain, and-

is met with the sight of Santana looking royal pissed off as she shoves him back into his room. He wants to fight it, but is too bewildered to do anything else but sit on his bed when she pushes him down.

"Alright, listen up, cause I'm only gonna say this once, _Kurt_."

The use of his actual name short circuits his brain for a moment, and he remembers the look of absolute awe that Rachel had the first time Santana used _her _actual name in a way that wasn't eventually an insult. He snaps his mouth shut, and Santana speaks.

"I'm not stupid. I know that, despite your ridiculously pale baby face, freakishly high-pitched voice, and weird obsession with acting like a woman on her period at least once a month, you're all guy. Even if you have the habit of prancing around and enjoy ballet more than most men ever should. The nicknames? It's what I do. You know that. I know that. I'm not sure when it suddenly became an issue." Santana has her arms crossed over her chest and a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in challenge. "I mean, sure, you use more facial product than Rachel and I combined, and you walk in four inch heels better than half the women I know, but really? I thought we had an understanding. You call me any form referring to the spawn of satan with no emotion and having the heart and sex drive of a Lilith, and I make vague implications that maybe you have a vagina somewhere down there. It's a thing we do."

Kurt wants to say that Santana has never been vague about her insults, but refrains, because that's really not the point. And he knows that. "You're right. I don't know why I freaked out. I'm… sorry… I guess. Just forget it."

Then Santana surprises him by closing his curtain (which he doesn't get, because he knows Rachel is gone for the day) and sitting on his bed. She looks at him, and the look is so intense that he just cannot meet it. "Great, apology accepted. I'll tone it down, or whatever. Next thing on the agenda."

"There's _more_?"

That look sharpens, and Kurt leans away from her warily. "Kurt. You were staring at my boobs."

"No I-"

She puts a hand up. "Don't. Seriously. I know when people are checkin' out the twins. It's not uncommon. And while normally I wouldn't blame you, because hello my tits are awesome, you've seen my chest like, a billion times. And you have _never _blushed."

He can feel his heart picking up, and his palms get sweaty, and oh god he is not ready for his conversation. "I don't- I mean- It isn't like that."

"Isn't like what, Kurt?" And alright, the voice she's using? It's freaking him out. Because he's only heard Santana use that voice when she's trying to calm down Rachel, or, back in the day, Brittany.

"Nothing. It's not like nothing."

Then Santana shifts closer. And on reflex Kurt moves away. The woman raises her eyebrow in challenge again, and he has to look down, hands fiddling with each-other.

Nothing is said for a moment, and to his surprise Santana actually lets him have his silence and collect his thoughts. He swallows hard, before finally saying in a small, shaky whisper, "I'm… I'm really, _really _confused…"

He hears Santana shift to sit closer to him, but he doesn't move away this time.

"What are you confused about?" And there's that damn voice again. All soft, and patient, and just-

"You, and Rachel, and- I'm _gay_. Santana, I'm gay, but then you two, and me, and I just-"

Then a hand is on his cheek, forcing him to look at dark brown eyes that he sort of wants to get lost in, but is terrified that he won't be able to get back if he does, and, "Breathe, Hummel. And just move your head yes or no, okay?"

He nods, grasping the comforter in his hands to keep them from shaking more.

"Do you think you have a crush on Rachel and I?"

Kurt locks up.

Like, his entire body completely freezes up and his eyes lose focus and all the air seems to rush out of his lungs.

Somehow hearing it sounds just as bad as if he had actually said it himself.

"Kurt." Santana's voice sounds incredibly far off. "Kurt!" _Slap!_ He jerks away, blinking and staring at her, but this time actually seeing her.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'llmoveout," he rushes. "I know some people from NYADA, I can find a new place, and I'll move, and I'm sorry, and I-"

_Slap!_

"Ow!"

"Kurt! I told you to nod your head! Jesus Christ." Santana rolls her eyes and grabs his arm tightly, probably because he looks like he's about to bolt.

He'd like to.

"You aren't moving."

"But I-"

"No."

"Santana."

"Shut up. You aren't moving. And yeah. The crush? Really weird. But whatever. We could do worse."

_What?_

_"What?"_

He just barely has time to register that Santana's smirk makes his heart jump before there are incredibly soft and firm lips against his, a hand on his back and behind his neck, and then his brain just stops trying to keep up.


	5. Chapter 5

It takes Kurt's brain a full 30 seconds to realize what's going on, and by the time he has the sense to think "I should pull away", Santana is doing that for him, the hand behind his neck sliding down to cup his cheek and the one around his back moving to hold onto his shoulder. He blinks, and realizes that she's waiting for a response.

And "Uh…" is the only thing that leaves his slightly agape lips. Also, his face is hot, and his stomach is flipping, and he's pretty sure that most of the blood in his body is being redirected to a totally different head.

Santana is still smirking, her thumb slowly smoothing over the cheek cradled in her hand. "Interesting. Your lips are exactly as soft as they look." Then she licks _her _lips, and Kurt finds his eyes locking onto the action, and there's some stirring in his briefs at the passing question of "what else can she do with her tongue?" Finally, swallowing audibly, the young man forces actual words out his mouth.

"WhataboutRachel?"

Well, sort of. But it's enough to actually make that thought _incredibly _coherent in his mind and he jumps off the bed.

"Oh my Streisand! You just cheated on Rachel! I just _helped _you _cheat on Rachel_!"

And then, of course, Rachel opens the curtain.

_Fuck_, is the singular word running over and over and over and-

"It's not what it looks like!" he rushes, and realizes that there's probably a bit of a bulge in his pants, and his face is flush, and his hair is a mess, and, alright, it looks pretty bad.

Except Rachel just sighs, eyes going over to Santana, who looks annoyed and not in the least bit sorry. "Santana… You promised you wouldn't freak him out…"

The taller woman chuckles, shrugging. "Sorry, babe." She doesn't sound sorry, either. "He was panicking. Did you know I can shut him up the exact way I shut you up?"

Kurt has never been more confused in his entire life. At any point in time.

Because, seriously, what in the name of Broadway is going on here?

He steps back, looking from one to the other. The girls are still talking; something about how Rachel doesn't appreciate being shut up and that she "wasn't complaining the other night" and finally he can't take it anymore.

"Okay! Stop!" he raises his voice, causing the conversation to grind to a halt as both women turn their heads to look directly at him. Rachel looks sympathetic and Santana looks… devious, and… have her eyes gotten darker? He shakes his head to clear it. "_What is going on_?" asks Kurt, his tone borderline desperate. "Because if this is some kind of sick joke or kink I am so, so not interested and honestly maybe a little hurt, and just…" He exhales, shoulders slumping as he shifts his eye from Rachel to Santana and back. "Just someone explain this to me."

Rachel bits her lip a little, then approaches him, slowly, as though afraid to spook him. He'd be insulted if he wasn't already feeling a bit spooked. Carefully, she sets a hand on his shoulder, and guides him back to sit on his bed next to Santana, then sits down on his other side. It's reverse from the usual order, but he doesn't care right now.

"Santana and I have been talking," begins Rachel. "I noticed some sort of change in your demeanor around us, and at first I just thought you were feeling like a thirdwheel, hence we agreed to include you in cuddle sessions and other bonding activities, and cut down a bit on our alone time. Then… Well, Santana told me what happened the other night."

Kurt pales a little at that, and he looks down at his shaking hands, clasping them tight. It doesn't help his nerves, though, and he feels like jumping out of his skin. It's only when Rachel sets a hand on his own, and Santana squeezes his knee that he feels a little more relaxed.

Which should probably be another clue as to his feelings.

Rachel continues. "And as I said, we talked about it. I won't bother with the details, but, well, we'd like to try something, with you I mean. And not in a kinky way," the smaller woman hurries to say, noting the way Kurt's brow furrow and the frown that almost turns the corners of his lips (and she ignores the "yet" that Santana murmurs). "Neither of us are sure what this all means, but…"

It's Santana that takes over, as Rachel trails off with a shrug. "We like you." The words just sound weird, and Kurt catches the small cringe that the Latina makes. He looks at her, now fully frowning, and apparently disbelief is pretty obvious on his features because Santana sighs and scoots closer. She takes his head in her hands and forces him to look directly at her. "I know, it's fucking freaky as shit. And yeah, it's gonna take some serious getting used to for me to say that without wanting to throw up a little, but it's not you. It's the guy of it all. So _don't _think I'm being any less real, got it?"

Kurt nods as best as he can and Santana releases him, and Rachel is speaking again so he turns to look back at her. "We're already comfortable on an emotional level, and platonic physical shows of affection. Honestly, we've been half dating for months now. So we'd like to try the real deal with you, Kurt. If you'd let us, that is."

He's not really sure how to react, really. All his defenses are trying to go up, but they can't because feelings or not they're still Santana and Rachel. _His _Santana and Rachel.

And maybe he should have realized that something was up the moment he started thinking of them as his.

Warily, he glances at Santana, then at Rachel. "And… you're both _sure _of this?"

Rachel smiles, nodding and giving a small shrug. "As sure as we can be, given the situation."

Taking a deep breath, exhaling it slowly and letting his grip tighten on Rachel's hand a little, Kurt speaks. "I… want to try this, with you both. I do. But can we just… go slow… sorta? Please?" He's oddly relieved at the blinding smile from Rachel and the small smirk from Santana, who replies,

"Well yeah, obviously. It's not like we really know what the hell we're doing. But we figured we'd start by taking you out to dinner. Gots ta woo you, after all."

He's caught off by that. "Woo… me?"

There's bouncing from his right, and Rachel is clapping her hands in excitement. "Of course! We're very serious about this, Kurt. Just because we live together doesn't mean that we're skipping out on doing this properly. And granted, Santana and I technically had sex before we started really dating, but that's neither here nor there. We're taking you out, and we aren't saying where, or what else we're doing, but I promise you'll love it."

By now the young man is starting to accept that it's going to take awhile before he doesn't blush, because he feels the heat across his face and can only chuckle, running a hand through his mussed up hair and nodding in relent. Then a hand is on his left cheek, turning him, and suddenly he's got Rachel Berry's lips on his.

She's not pushy, or rushed, or fervent; instead, she's only a little insistent, just enough to get his brain going so that he can kiss back, and Kurt lets his eyes close as he brings a hand up to push his fingers into the girl's long, silky brown hair.

They aren't doing much, really. Just lips sliding over and between lips. It's actually rather chaste, but it's so, so sweet, and although it's going to take some getting used to tasting a flavor of chap stick or lip-glosses, he's not opposed to practicing, he realizes.

When they pull away Rachel's got this soft smile on, and he turns his head to look at Santana, and feels his heart skip a beat at the dark, heated look smoldering in her eyes.

"Fuck…" she husks out, licking her lips slowly. "That so should not be as hot as it was."

Kurt can feel his stomach coiling again, and quickly gets up to put space between him and the girls. "I'm definitely not ready for that," he says, and he must look ridiculously nervous because Santana chuckles, getting up and walking over simply to lightly kiss his cheek before she leaves through the curtain.

So then he's left with Rachel, who remains on his bed, hands on her crossed knees and that soft smile still present. "Are you okay?" she asks carefully, sympathetically.

The laugh he lets out is shaky, but he opens his arms up, and the small woman doesn't waste time as she hops up and all but leaps into them, holding on tight.

"Yeah," he replies, speaking into her hair more than anything. "I'm okay."

And he is, he decides.

And he's going to get even better. He refuses to be wrong this time around.


	6. Chapter 6

The date was...

It was _spectacular_.

Kurt had been on a lot of amazing dates, with more than a few amazing men, two of whom he'd actually dated. But this...

Maybe it was because it was so _different_. It was Santana and Rachel, and even ignoring the _women _part of that, they were... Well, he knew what they were like separately, and with other people, and with each other, and he'd just never dreamed (until recently) that he would be on the receiving end of their own versions of romantic crazy.

He loved it.

Rachel and Santana were_ both _hopeless romantics, even if Santana would deny it to her grave. So was he, and he'd never had quite that much attention on him.

Of course he had never been courted by two people before, so there was also that.

But between Santana holding the doors, Rachel pulling out his seat, and both of them kissing him on the cheek afterwards... He was still blushing, he was sure. Because one of them had been dropping well-meaning innuendos all night, and the other sincere compliments, and now they were both sharing his bed - dressed, of course. Because he still was not even remotely ready for _that_.

Although, by Streisand, the things that Santana had _said_.

It seemed that every time Rachel looked the other way there was a hand on his thigh and soft lips whispering all the sweet, dirty things she and Rachel wanted to do to him...

At one point he had left hurriedly to... regain his composure, and when he had returned there was a slightly chastised looking Latina and an overly smiling diva. The sight had made him laugh, and he took his seat between them again, continuing their meal.

As he shifted a little, readjusting his head on Santana's shoulder (she insisted on being in the middle; something about feeling like a pimp with two 'babes' on either side, or something), and closed his eyes, smiling as he thought about the date in detail, wanting to soak it all in completely...

It had started with a minor panic attack on his part.

"_You want to take me __**where**_?!" His face became bleach white, eyes wide as saucers and mouth hanging open in complete shock and terror.

Just then Rachel came through the door, took in Santana practically on the floor laughing and Kurt's inability to move, and sighed, walking right up to the Latina and slapping her arm.

"Santana! _What did you tell him_!?" she demanded to know, and Santana, finally able to calm herself down, managed to reply,

"It was a joke!"

"You broke him!" Rachel pointed to Kurt, who was still frozen in place, blinking slowly. He let out a little squeak, and Santana couldn't help but chuckle. She walked up to him, patting him on the cheek.

"Kurtsie, it was a joke. We won't do that until at least the 4th or 5th date. Promise."

When it didn't appear that her words were going to get through to him, she turned back to Rachel, who had crossed her arms and was raising her eyebrow in that 'You're responsible for this. Fix it,' sort of way. So, sighing and rolling her eyes, Santana tangled a hand into the man's hair, and pulled him down enough to kiss him firmly.

That snapped him out of it, and in surprise he tried to pull away. But Santana didn't let him, not until he finally relaxed and began kissing her back. Then she let him go, stepping back to let him breathe.

Kurt took a few moments to compose himself before finally glaring at the woman. "I don't know why I like you..." He got a smirk in return, and huffed, looking at Rachel. "She told me we were... going to an S&M house..." His cheeks tinted red, as did Rachel's, who glared sharply at Santana, looking flustered.

"_Santana_!"

The Latina grinned, shrugging. "Whatever. You'd both be so down with me chaining you up it wouldn't be funny." Her grin got even bigger when neither of them could do anything but blush and glare at her. She kissed them both on the cheek before turning to go into Rachel's room. "Anyway. I need to finish getting ready for the _romantic _date. When you two can figure out how to move and speak properly again, feel free to do the same."

She vanished behind the curtain, and Kurt and Rachel looked at each other.

"I hate how smug she is sometimes," grumbled the young man. Rachel hummed in agreement, shaking her head.

"Trust me, it never changes. I think it actually gets worse once you start having sex with her..."

Kurt flushed a bit again at the thought, and Rachel smiled at him. "But anyway, let's get ready, yes? We've a big night! And I'm sure you'll love it! Prepared to be utterly and inescapably swept off your feet, ."

An hour later they were sitting in a small, quaint Italian restaurant, at a three person table (Rachel didn't want Kurt to feel left out at all), in the corner. Kurt wished he could say he felt composed and confident but he'd been bobbing his leg up and down anxiously and twiddling his thumbs. It was obvious he was still unsure about this whole thing, and Rachel took it upon herself to speak up about it.

"Kurt," she began kindly, reaching over the table to settle her fingers over his twisting hands, "this doesn't _have _to be a date, you know. If you don't want this-"

"NO!" he shouted, flushing hotly when some of the other patrons looked their way. He ducked down, clearing his throat. "N-no. I do. Want this, I mean. I've just never, you know... Done any of this with... a woman. Much less two of them who are already in a relationship, and I just..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly. Because, what do you say to follow that? That he doesn't know if he can match up? That he doesn't want to disappoint them? Or get between them? Or anything of that nature?

Surprisingly, though maybe it shouldn't have been, it was Santana that took over at that point. "Kurt, seriously, you're focusing on all the wrong things here. Yeah, it's totally weird that this is happening, but if we all want it, then whatever, right?" She shrugged, crossing her arms. "And stop freaking out because Rachel and I are already dating. All that means is that I can totally get her off in 2.2 and focus on you-"

Rachel slapped her on the arm again, glaring, but Santana just smiled and leaned over to peck her cheek, murmuring an apology in her ear. Feathers still ruffled, Rachel rolled her eyes, but used her free hand to clasp Santana's. "Santana's right, Kurt. Not about the sex part. But the meaning behind it. This is about us wooing you, okay? And we wouldn't do it if it wasn't something that we also wanted for us, and for you."

That actually calmed him down some, and after that he was able to enjoy the meal a bit more.

By the end of it, when he reached to pay, Santana stole his wallet, and Rachel paid for the meal while Santana covered the tip. Then he was swept up (Santana didn't return his wallet), and led out the doors, his arm through Santana's and Rachel's through his as they headed to their next destination.

As it turned out, it was unanimously agreed that they would simply walk through the nearest park.

Santana bought him a flower from the nearest vendor, Rachel an ice cream cone (his favorite flavors; mint, chocolate, and strawberry), and he found himself stuck between them as they tried out-doing each other on the flirting front.

It was _weird _being flirted at by Santana. Because - because it was _Santana_. She could have been a Santiago and it would have been just as strange. But it was also incredibly flattering, even if half her compliments almost sounded like insults sometimes.

And were almost all sexual.

Rachel was different, but just as good. And while he was used to and had always appreciated her compliments, they had never been of the romantic variety, and the amount of sincerity had almost been overwhelming.

"So, just between us, what am I working with package wise?"

But not as overwhelming as nearly everything that came out of Santana's mouth.

Seeing her get hit so many times in one night, and scolded, was amusing, though.

"That's... Not something we're going to talk about right now," he replied, eying her warily. She stopped them completely, Kurt and Rachel nearly falling over at the suddenness of it. Both of Santana's companions leaned away a little at the intensity of the look she was giving Kurt.

"Why do I feel like she's looking into my soul?" he stage whispered to Rachel.

She replied in kind, "Because she's actually attempting to use x-ray vision on your clothing. She does that sometimes."

That made him blush, and Santana grinned toothily. "_Nice_. You topped, didn't you? With Hobbit B, I mean. Like, I totally nailed you as a bottom with that guy but suddenly your whole relationship makes a lot more sense."

Stuttering and fumbling for words, face as red as ever, the words were out before he could stop them. "How do you even _know that_?" he squeaked.

If anything, Santana's grin got wider. "Didn't. But I do now. For the record, you're not topping me for a long, long time. But least I know you'll be good to Rach."

"_Santana!"_

She walked off a bit, laughing loudly, leaving both Rachel and Kurt red.

Then Rachel stomped after her, rounding on Santana quickly. Kurt couldn't really make out the hushed, heated words, but the Latina actually looked legitimately put out, and Kurt knew it was over the second Rachel whipped out her signature pout. The taller woman pulled the singer into her arms, kissing her forehead and murmuring something in her ear. Rachel nodded, and they took hands, returning to Kurt.

The whole time he just stood there a little awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Then Rachel stepped to the side, and Santana stepped up to him. He had expected... Well, he wasn't sure, actually. But Santana hugged him, firmly, _meaningfully_, and when she pulled back, spoke honestly, "Hey, I'm sorry if I'm like, actually freaking you out, okay? S'how I roll. But this isn't just about sex. I'm totally down for cuddling with clothes on sometime down the line."

Kurt smiled, sighing a little. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you. And I know. I'm not... I don't dislike it, really. It's just... Very forward. That's all."

Nodding, and taking his left hand as Rachel took his right, Santana led them out of the park, and they made their way home.

Kisses had been exchanged, and after some arguing over how they were going to sleep, they found themselves in bed.

As he began to finally drift off, Santana's arm around his shoulders and Rachel's hand in his over the middle woman's stomach, he sighed in contentment.

If anyone could somehow make... whatever this was going to be work, it was them.


	7. AUTHORS NOTE: Poll for next chapter!

THERE IS A POLL PERTAINING TO THE NEXT CHAPTER OF SANCTUARY SO PLEASE LE VOTE BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN FIGHTING WITH MYSELF OVER THIS FOR A WEEK AND SO NOW IT IS UP TO YOU~~~!

Anyway. Go vote. Please? I dunno what to do.


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